


can you tell i haven't slept very well since the last time that we spoke

by sungsh1ne



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Han Jisung | Han-centric, Hurt No Comfort, I guess???, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, im bad at tagging, jisung really needs a hug, lol yeah not many tags, probable tws pls be careful, vent fic, yeah the title is a mayday parade lyric what abt it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27483043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungsh1ne/pseuds/sungsh1ne
Summary: jisung was never good with emotions.
Kudos: 34





	can you tell i haven't slept very well since the last time that we spoke

**Author's Note:**

> hi i wanna make this very clear that this is a vent fic and there possible tws to mentioned self harm and suicide so pls if you're trigged by either of those things do not read this. they're brief and don't go into much detail, but i just want to make sure everyone knows that they're still including in the fic. other than that have a good day!!!
> 
> oh also! this wasn't edited very much so there might still be some mistakes in there. i apologize for that.

jisung was never good with emotions. while he felt them deeply and frequently, he was never good at expressing them or putting them into words. he didn’t like feeling vulnerable, so he never let anyone see when he was feeling hurt. but he was never really good at hiding his emotions either. he liked to pretend he was, because then he would at least be good at something. but when he was feeling down, something about the atmosphere around him changed. his eye bags would grow darker, and he wouldn’t eat quiet as much. he wouldn’t talk as much and would try to avoid interacting with anything other than his bed and phone as much as possible. his room would become messier than it always was, he would leave clothes on the floor for weeks at a time without moving them. 

but he wouldn’t accept when anyone was trying to help him no matter how bad he felt. whenever someone tried to help him, he would either insist that he was perfectly fine or pretend that he was considering their advice. he knew that it wasn’t good, but he was scared and embarrassed. 

maybe it was because when he was growing up his family never talked about their emotions. mental health was never a topic that even crossed his family’s minds, despite the fact that he knew his entire family had horrible mental health. whenever he seemed to be sad, his mother would just tell him he needed to socialize and get out of the house. he never had the energy to explain to his mother that hanging out with people would just make him feel worse, so he went along with it. 

he still implemented that now as an adult. whenever his friends seemed to start worrying about him, he would go and hangout with them for a few hours until their thoughts seemed to be put at ease. he felt bad for his friends; he really did, but they just tired him out so much. he really enjoyed talking to them over text, but he found that whenever they were hanging out in person all he could think about was when he could go home. it’s not that he didn’t like being around his friends; it’s just that he found himself so constantly worried that he was doing something wrong that the only time he truly could relax and enjoy it was when he was already home. he felt like a horrible person for it too. what kind of person doesn’t like seeing their friends? 

he really was a horrible person. when he really couldn’t handle anything, he wouldn’t talk to anyone for days or weeks. he’d ignore his mother’s calls and the endless texts his friends would send him. he was surprised that they didn’t stop talking to him all together. 

occasionally, when he felt like he’d finally reached his breaking point, he would try to drop subtle hints to his friends that he could use some help. they never seemed to pick up on them, though. they’re not mind readers, jisung. that’s what he always tried to convince himself. but deep down he felt like they just didn’t care enough to try and help him. 

there was a few times that he actually let himself breakdown in front of his friends. most of the time it was just chan when they were studying late at night. he always felt embarrassed the day after. it hadn’t happened recently. he could tell that chan was having a hard time himself, so jisung didn’t want to put even more pressure on him by burdening him with his own selfish problems. 

sometimes, his mind would get swept away and he couldn’t control his thoughts. he would have thoughts of adding new scars to old ones, or finally sleeping peacefully. he would try to push them away, and most of the time he didn’t give into them. but sometimes he would find himself spacing out while chopping up fruit, or being a little less careful than he normally would in hopes that something would happen. 

days like those is when he knew he couldn’t be alone. so he would tell his friends that they should grab a coffee no matter how exhausted he felt. he knew that if he was surrounded by people then he wouldn’t try anything. days like those he normally convinced one of his friends to let him spend the night so he wouldn’t have to deal with those thoughts as he tried to sleep. 

he felt bad using his friends like that. they were people and not something to be used to distract himself. he really didn’t deserve to be friends with them. they should just leave him already.  
there were times when jisung couldn’t get out of bed. he would leave his tv on for days and just stay underneath the protection of his comforter. only forcing himself to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. he almost pitied himself for it. 

he hardly ever showed up for his classes when he felt bad. he was sure his professors were surprised that he hadn’t dropped out yet. normally though, he wouldn’t miss a single class. he had straight a’s and b’s. he was a good student, sometimes he just couldn’t take it. 

he tended to wonder how he would ever make it in the world. there wasn’t anything special enough about him that he could go missing for weeks and still make a living off the art he creates. no one would pay for it if he stayed at the level he was at now. he had to keep constantly improving to even get anyone to listen to him on soundcloud. but how was he supposed to do that when he couldn’t even get out of bed sometimes? it’s not like someone else could just do the work for him. the only reason he had an apartment to himself was because his parents were paying for it. 

when he thought about it, he really had no reason to be like this. it’s not like he had a horrible childhood. his parents were a little controlling, but nice enough. it’s not like they outright abused him or his siblings. they weren’t poor, so he never had to worry about having food for dinner. he was never bullied other than teasing from his siblings. his family was decently accepting of who he was. so why was he sad and tired all the time? was there a reason for it? or was he just unlucky? he always felt like he was being ungrateful. he had a good life; he should be happy about it. 

maybe he was on tumblr at too young of an age. the things he saw on there were imprinted in his young, impressionable brain. perhaps talking to strangers on the internet really wasn’t a good thing. could those have really made him like this? a few mistakes he made as a child indented his mental health as an adult this much? or was he just trying to find something to blame because he couldn’t comprehend the fact that his brain just hated him? 

who knew. it could be anything. 

maybe he really was just that much of a fucking loser.


End file.
